


Change of Place

by strokemyplumage (girlfromcarolina)



Category: NCIS
Genre: Control Issues, Episode: s06e12 Caged, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-14
Updated: 2012-05-14
Packaged: 2017-11-05 09:14:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/404728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlfromcarolina/pseuds/strokemyplumage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony gets the hots for demanding!Tim, and the results are a little unexpected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Change of Place

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the Latin: _Omnis mutatio loci jucunda fiet._ Beta'ed by jumpuphigh, to whom I am SO grateful because she never ever let me give up on writing Tim/Tony. ♥

Tony DiNozzo is not a naive man.

Worldy. Macho. Ingenious. Consummate. Much better words to describe his intricate personality. Oh, intricate. That's another good one. But certainly not naive. There's no one in the world he knows better than himself, and Chinese restaurants would serve better _linguine alle vongole_ before he'll admit inexperience with anything.

Which is why Tony is rather surprised to find his body reacting when he remembers Tim telling his Porsche mechanic exactly where he could stick it. Shit, that's a bad way to put it.

Sitting on his couch— _High Society_ playing in the background as Turner Classic Movies' dinner offering—Tony replays his last half hour in the office. Tim had walked in—no, his Probie had _swaggered_ in—riding high from his success with Celia Roberts and the quashed riot at the prison. Ziva wasn't kidding when she said the team had doubts about McGee's abilities, but those had been eliminated as effectively as the riot. Tim had practically growled into his phone, and if Tony were the sleazeball mechanic, he'd have been on his knees and under that car in half a second flat after hearing those words. And he'd probably try to record the conversation for some good old private time later too. Tim's voice had been deeper—steady and commanding—than Tony was used to, and although Tim wasn't really smiling, the self-satisfied expression he wore might have been even hotter. 

When Tim was finished with his mechanic, Tony caught his eye and read the smug _see what I can do?_ there. Tony had masked the reaction that caused by cracking his thirty-eighth joke of the day about the the irony of his gentle-as-a-newborn-kitten Probie finding his balls in a women's prison. Well, thirty nine if he counted the one that was interrupted by a sharp Gibbs-slap to the back of his head.

Still, Tony can't get Tim's voice out of his head. Fairly inconvenient when he just wants to forget about the whole thing and go back to the way things were before Tony knew exactly how hot Tim was when he _demanded_. Because really, things aren't so bad. There's nothing more arousing than hearing Tim _beg_ to fuck him. Voice pleading while Tim uses his hands, teeth, mouth— _fuck_ , Tim's mouth—to convince Tony that spreading his legs is a good thing. Mutually beneficial, you might say. It's just a game—Tony loves games—and he gives it up to Tim every time. Doesn't mean he won't make his boyfriend work for it.

But right now his brain, northern and southern hemispheres, have other ideas. Pesky ones involving a different sort of begging or worse, no begging at _all_ because Tony can't speak over the growly, forceful words coming out of Tim's mouth.

Well, no need to worry about that ever happening because as Tony will insist, he likes the way things are. Likes it when Tim spends an hour blowing Tony on the sofa just waiting for the chance to fuck him. More than likes it when Tim can't hold himself back, pushing into Tony with a long, grateful moan and bitten-off praises. No way Tony is going to let that change. McGee is still _McGee_. Adorable and nervous and not at all—

"Tony?"

He drops his hands off his thighs— _nothing to see here!_ —and rushes into the hallway just in time to see McGee shut the front door.

"Hey—" Tim drops his backpack beside the hall table, next to Tony's. "I hope you left me some of whatever you ordered for dinner 'cause I am starving."

Thumbs to the kitchen. "Yeah, there's still some pizza."

"Pizza?" Apparently McCritic does not approve. "Variety, Tony. Have you ever heard of it?"

"Well, yeah," he shoots back. Obviously Tony is familiar with the concept of variety. _Variety_ would be letting Tim throw him up against the wall and—

"Fine, pizza is it then." 

McGee sighs and starts for the back of the apartment, but that's not the kind of plan little DiNozzo is up for. Big DiNozzo either, for that matter. That's why he finds himself wrapping fingers in Tim's coat and pushing him against the wall.

"Tony?" Hesitant, like Tim thinks Tony has watched one too many classic slasher flicks for his own good. Which, he probably has, but that's beside the point. "Food now? Please?"

Tony shakes his head. "Not really what I had in mind, McGee."

"Seriously, we can play 'keep McGee prisoner' later."

An interesting suggestion, but that won't cut it either. So Tony shakes his head, forearm pressing against Tim's chest. Now Tim really huffs, green eyes narrowing as a warning before his hands latch onto Tony's arm. His surprise lasts just long enough for Tim to push him back to the opposite wall, sliding flush with Tony's hips. _Hello, variety. Nice to meet you._

"I'm _hungry_ , Tony, and you—"

Unfortunately, Tim leans a little too far into Tony's body and feels the unmistakable evidence— _can we get an evidence marker, here?_ — of Tony's train of thought.

"You're..." And bless Probie, he catches on _real_ quick—Tony chalks that up to his awesome teaching skills—eyes coming off screensaver mode and immediately downloading this new information. Tony squeaks and then Tim's mouth is all over his. Tim isn't stopping to switch to a better angle—their noses collide and teeth clack together. He's intent on his course to have Tony spontaneously combust before they make it out of the hallway. From the feel of Tim's groin levering against his, Tony has kindled something of his own.

Just when Tony's getting used to having his mouth used as a tongue playground by McGee, the aggressive kissing stops. Tony certainly doesn't whimper, except the arch of Tim's eyebrow tells him that he may be momentarily repressing the memory. Tim's lips are only inches away—perfectly in range—until they're suddenly _not_.

"Come on," Tony mutters trying to connect with Tim's mouth again. "Tim, _come on_."

He doesn't quite get there, but Tim's lips are taking an alternate route, settling on the taut stretch of Tony's throat. And that's not half bad. Light bites give way to barely-there kisses up underneath Tony's ear.

"No," Tim whispers right into the sweaty skin.

"No?"

"No, we're not doing this _here_." Tim clarifies right before his tongue touches the sensitive join of neck and ear. "Bedroom."

Tony's on board with that, only Tim isn't moving.

"Here's what you're going to do."

Suddenly its like the phone call all over again. Tim's low, confident voice is right in his ear, a straight connection to the _yes, do want!_ center of his brain.

"You're gonna go into the bedroom and take off all of this," Tim commands with a soft breath, hands trailing over Tony's shirt and dropping to his leather belt. "Then, once you're naked, get on the bed and..."

"Yeah, and?" Tony can barely keep his tongue in his mouth, fuses shorting out.

"And I..." Tim nibbles Tony's earlobe and he has to struggle to pay attention. "I am going to get something to eat."

"You're—I'm— _what_?"

Tim fixes him with a look that brokers no argument even though Tony is perfectly willing to argue the point.

"Go, Tony."

He's going to resist, honestly. It's unfair, Tim standing so close and not using that proximity to kiss Tony until they're both so turned on that they resort to blowjobs in the hallway just to take the edge off. He meets Tim's eyes, fully prepared to snark his way out of this...

And five minutes later, Tony is lying naked on his bed listening for any sounds telling him McGee's on his way. The microwave dinged ages ago— _it never takes Tim this long to eat!_ —and the television was turned off at some point. Still no Tim. Tony occupies himself by constructing elaborate scenarios of what could happen when McGee walks through the door. Those images have Tony writhing over the bed, erection already hard against his thigh. And that's exactly how Tim finds him a moment later; Tony's breathing harshly and rubbing his legs on the comforter.

It doesn't take Tim long to undress and soon enough he's over Tony, whispering very un-Probie like things in Tony's ear. All sorts of naughty words— _gonna make you scream for it, Tony_ and _want to take my time with you_ —until Tony's arching up and desperate for action instead. His brain's still stuck on resisting, but his body waved the white flag back in the hallway.

Tony loses track of the minutes between Tim laying new marks on Tony's throat and a finger pushing into him. There's no chance of making Tim work for it this time; he's playing Tony's body like it's his favorite computer game and he's learned all the shortcuts. And Tim's taking his sweet time, opening Tony on one, two, three fingers until Tony really _is_ begging for it.

"What do you want me to do, Tony?"

How the hell can Tim sound so composed with three fingers sliding slick in Tony's ass while Tony moans and moves beneath him? Tony can barely string a sentence together.

" _Fuck_ , Tim—"

"That's not an answer." The fingers disappear and Tim rolls, pulling Tony on top of him. "So I'm going to _tell_ you what you want."

Tony's brain short circuits at that and he almost misses Tim telling him to spread his knees, straddling wide across Tim's thighs. Tim's hands push Tony's legs further apart until his erection is pushing against Tony's body.

"Now do you know what you want?"

"Yes, _fuck_. Come on, Tim, _fuck me_."

And Tim smirks as he lets Tony sink down, ass coming flush with Tim's hips. It feels so damn good; Tony leans forward with Tim deep inside him. He finds Tim's mouth and kisses him, long and wet. Thank god Tim allows it because otherwise Tony feels like his limbs would be flying in every direction. When Tim starts thrusting, feet on the bed for leverage, Tony groans and his lips fall to Tim's collarbone, creating his own set of marks. McBossy is not getting out of this unscathed even if he is currently very much in control.

"Stop, Tony..."

Tony considers it a small victory that Tim's voice is so strained, but that doesn't last long.

" _Tony_ , stop." He listens this time, leaning up when Tim's hands push at his chest. "Lean back and go slowly."

His body doesn't want slow. His body would rather have Tim flipping them over and fucking Tony into the mattress, but he complies, straightening up until he's leaning back into Tim's propped-up thighs.

"But I—"

"Slow, Tony."

The move turns out to be mutually beneficial. Tony can look down and watch Tim's reactions to his slow ride even as his body's screaming for a different rhythm. And Tim pushes up at exactly the right times, hitting those spots in Tony that have his legs shaking and spine shuddering. He sees stars; he sees rainbows. He sees little naked McGee's circling around his head, echoing Big Tim's commands of _slower, want it deeper, Tony_. 

Eventually neither one of them can sustain the position and Tony falls forward again, letting Tim roll them. Tim gets Tony on his knees, chest to the mattress, getting enough space to jerk Tony off in time with his thrusts. Tony's biting the comforter and Tim is biting _Tony_ when they start coming, Tony a moment earlier. He'll be ringed in bruises and bites tomorrow morning, but Tony will worry about that when he manages to put his brain back together.

At least Tim can spare enough brain cells to move Tony out of the wet spot before he can fall into it. Tim is warm and flushed when Tony flips over to lay next to him, not at all minding that Tim's been turned back into his cuddling self post-orgasm. Maybe later Tony will tell Tim just how hot that was—obviously when he can get something for it, like those hallway blowjobs he remembers thinking about earlier...

"I'm still hungry," Tim moans just as Tony's drifting off into his own after-sex happy place.

"Seriously? I thought you ate pizza."

"Nah, I only wanted you to think I did. Truth was I just wanted to get in here and—"

Tony kisses him again, wondering why he didn't notice the lack of pizza-breath earlier. Most likely because he was too horny to process minor details like that, but no one's keeping score.

Unless Tim is.

 

FIN.


End file.
